


Keeper of the Year

by thepsychicclam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 02:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver visits Diagon Alley after Quidditch season is over to catch up with an old friend. While there, he doesn’t expect to meet Susan Bones, and what he really doesn’t expect is for her to blow him off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeper of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> Written for praxyn.

Oliver pushed open the door into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and was bombarded by cacophony. He smiled and ducked as a flying disc nearly crashed into his head. He figured he should at least be in the shop for ten minutes before he received a concussion.

The shop was filled with young wizards full of beginning-of-summer excitement. He waded through the crowd, sidestepping one kid puking beside a display of Puking Pastilles and walking around a floating cloud raining miniature cats and dogs. 

He didn’t see George anywhere. While he waited, he started perusing the display of new items. As he examined a quaffle – trying to figure out just what it did – he heard some whispers to his right. He glanced over and down at a group of kids who looked to be around twelve.

“Are you…” one boy started, but then turned bright red and just stood there. His friend continued, “Are you Oliver Wood?”

“From Puddlemere United?”

Oliver smiled. He knew it’d been a mistake looking at the Quidditch-themed jokes, but the kids were cute and polite. He’d been starting for Puddlemere for two seasons, and even been named Keeper of the Year a few weeks ago. But Puddlemere United, unfortunately, had missed going to the Quidditch World Cup by just a few points – which Oliver still hadn’t quite forgiven himself for, because as Keeper, it was, of course, his fault. And even after all that, he hadn’t quite adjusted to the fame. Not that it was a lot of fame – he was no Gwenog Jones, Finbar Quigley, or even Ginny Weasley – but he was on his way. 

And it was about time, too. He’d played for that reserve term for way too long for his liking. Six years was too long to be playing reserve, especially for his talent. And he’d almost given up when they _finally_ made him starting Keeper two years ago.

“I am!” he exclaimed as he set the quaffle back on the shelf. It started vibrating, then shot across the store, almost pelting some witch in the face. Oliver grimaced, and the kids laughed.

“Puddlemere’s my favorite team!” the first boy exclaimed.

“I like it, too,” another boy said.

“Can we have your autograph?”

“Of course.” The kids cheered and waited around as Oliver signed autographs for them. 

“Can I have your autograph, too?” a voice asked behind him. Oliver turned around with a smile, then smiled even wider when he saw George, laughing in his maroon staff robes. “It’s Oliver Wood!” George squealed in a falsetto. “In my shop! Merlin’s Beard, I’m gonna faint!”

“Cut it out,” Oliver said, shoving him. People around were starting to stare and recognize him. 

“You weren’t such a celebrity last time you visited,” George joked. 

“I’m not a celebrity now.”

George looked at the people edging closer and smirked as he walked away, leaving Oliver to sign a few more autographs. When he’d finished, he found George explaining a Muggle magic trick to some kids. 

“You should start charging,” George said after he finished. “Or maybe I could use it as a marketing ploy.”

Oliver smiled. “I wouldn’t bring in very much business.”

“I don’t know. Keeper of the Year. Can I even talk to you? Where’s your bodyguard? Are you allowed to mingle with us normal wizards?” 

Oliver laughed as Verity joined them. “Hey, Verity.” Oliver gave her a hug. “George treating you right? I’m surprised you haven’t quit.” 

“The whole place would fall apart without me.” She smiled, pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. “George, there’s a gentleman who needs some assistance.”

George smiled apologetically to Oliver. “Duty calls. Excuse me.”

Oliver continued looking around the shop, but what caught his eye wasn’t any of the merchandise. Over by the Pygmy Puffs was a woman with long, dark hair. Oliver watched her with interest; he liked the way her robes fell around her. He watched as she picked up different objects, and as she moved, he got a glimpse of her face. He had to go talk to her.

“I’d go with the purple one personally,” Oliver said as he came up beside her. She dropped the Pygmy Puff and looked at him. She had bright eyes and a lovely face. 

“Why’s that?”

“It goes better with your hair,” Oliver stated.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a pick-up line?”

He stared at her, a bit taken aback. “Maybe.”

“It wasn’t very good.” She started to walk away, so Oliver quickly stepped around her, coming to a halt square in front of her. She looked at him impatiently.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Oliver Wood, Keeper for Puddlemere United.” 

She tilted her head and studied him. “Does that usually work? Introducing yourself as a professional Quidditch player?”

“Only after my first line fails,” he joked. She actually smiled.

“Well, Oliver Wood, Keeper for Puddlemere United, it was very nice to meet you.” She stepped around and headed for the door.

“Wait!” Oliver called after her. “Don’t I at least get your name?”

She turned around. “Susan Bones.” And with that, she left the shop. 

*

George’s mouth felt warm and familiar. It’d been so long since they’d seen each other – over six months – and although Oliver had shagged quite a few people since then, it was nice to be back in his friend’s bed. Their casual arrangement was something that had surprised Oliver quite a bit – hadn’t even known George was interested – and now it had been going on for years. 

George’s hands were deft and practiced, and Oliver knew exactly where to touch, where to kiss, when to speed up or slow down. After they finished, they lay side by side in George’s bed, listening to the Wireless and sharing a bottle of Firewhiskey. The sheets were pooled around their waists, and Oliver had one foot resting outside the covers, George’s foot lazily rubbing along his other calf.

Oliver took a swig of the whiskey, then handed the bottle to George as it burned down his throat. “I see you still haven’t asked out Verity.”

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” George said.

“She’s going to end up with someone else if you don’t do it soon. She’s quite pretty. I’m surprised she hasn’t been snatched up already.”

“All the better for me,” George said, then took another long drink.

“I met a girl today,” Oliver confessed. “In your shop.”

“Oh?” George handed the bottle to Oliver, and he sipped thoughtfully.

“Susan Bones. Do you know her?”

George nodded. “She was in Ron’s year, and also in the DA. Hufflepuff, I think, maybe Ravenclaw. I don’t know her well, but she always seemed like a nice girl.”

“She’s different,” Oliver mused. “She’s not like most of the girls I date or shag.”

George turned in the bed and looked at Oliver fully. “She really made an impression on you, didn’t she?” Oliver felt his face color and took another sip. “Susan Bones. Who knew?”

“I think I’ll right miss this after we get girls,” Oliver said, “you, me, and the Firewhiskey.”

“Don’t forget the blowjobs,” George added with a wicked grin. 

“Of course. That’s a given.”

*

A few days later, Oliver was once again in Diagon Alley. He’d stopped at a café for lunch when he saw Susan sitting at a table alone, reading a book. After ordering a sandwich, he walked to her table.

“Mind if I join you?” 

Susan looked up from her book, morphing into a half-annoyed smile when she saw Oliver. “Ah, Oliver Wood, famous Quidditch player.” She closed her book. “I guess you may sit.”

He pulled out the chair with a grin. “What brings you to Diagon Alley?” he asked.

“Work.”

“Really?”

“Not all of us get an off season.”

“Hey, be fair. You have no idea how much work goes into a Quidditch season. I work more than not. I deserve an off season; otherwise, I’d go insane.”

“To your sanity, then,” she said, lifting her cup.

“So,” Oliver said, sitting his cup back on the table, “what is it that you do, Susan?”

“I’m Assistant Postmaster at the Diagon Alley Owlery.”

“Really?” Oliver chuckled, and when he saw that she wasn’t laughing, he said seriously, “How did you end up doing that? Seems like an odd job.”

“I saw an ad in _The Daily Prophet_ and here I am. Anything’s better than working for the Ministry.”

“Not a fan of Shacklebolt’s policies?” Oliver asked as a waitress set his sandwich down. He picked it up and began eating.

“It’s not that; I actually think the Minister’s been doing a swell job since the war.” Susan shifted uncomfortably and looked absently at the table. “My aunt worked for the Ministry.”

Oliver swallowed. “Don’t want to follow in the family tradition?”

“You could say that.” Susan stood up abruptly, her chair scraping across the floor loudly and startling Oliver. “I need to get back to work.”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “It was nice seeing you again.”

She didn’t smile or say anything. She just left him with his sandwich, wondering if it was something he’d said.

*

Oliver hadn’t stopped thinking about Susan since her abrupt departure at lunch. So, the next day he purposefully was on the sidewalk near the Owlery near lunchtime. And just as he’d hoped, he spotted Susan going to lunch. 

“Hey.”

She glanced at him and rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”

Slightly affronted, he said, “I was wondering if maybe I could take you to lunch.”

She shook her head. “No thanks, Oliver.”

“Come on. My treat.”

“No, really. Look,” she said, stopping and turning towards him, her face unreadable. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do.” She hurried off, deeper into Diagon Alley, Oliver staring after her in confusion.

*

Oliver pushed the box onto the stack he’d organized. Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he turned towards George and leaned against the boxes.

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” Oliver said. “I’m supposed to be on vacation.”

“You’d think you wouldn’t complain about stacking a few boxes,” George retorted. “Besides, I can’t let you get soft, now can I? I expect you to be Keeper of the Year next year.”

“Why didn’t you ask Verity to help you?” Oliver asked as he grabbed a bottle of water.

George shoved a box of Ton-Tongue Toffees onto a shelf too forcefully, and it caused a box of Wildfire Whiz-Bangs to fall off the edge. The box landed on its side, and one firework shot across the room, exploding loudly in a shower of sparks that sang the Hogwarts school song.

“I’m sorry I asked,” Oliver shouted over the noise. 

As they waited for the firework to fizzle, George hastily repackaged the spilled contents. When the noise died, George slumped on the floor. “Verity had plans today,” George said. “With another wizard.”

“Ah, shit,” Oliver said, sitting beside George, “I’m sorry.” George shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, I saw Susan again and she blew me off. I may have pissed her off; I couldn’t tell.”

“What did you do?” Oliver shrugged. “You know what we need, Oliver?”

“What?”

“To go out and get completely sloshed. And perhaps, we need to get laid.”

“We can take care of that last part right now,” Oliver said, closing the distance between their mouths. George hungrily kissed him back, and pushed him back against the storeroom floor. They shoved up their robes and grabbed each other’s cocks, pumping their fists hastily as they kissed. Oliver came quickly, and George not long after.

As they lay on the floor afterwards, George said, “So, are you busy tonight? We can get a few people together and go raise some hell. All on your sickle, of course. You are the celebrity.”

Oliver dropped his head to the side, looking at George in exasperation. “You’re never going to stop that, are you?”

George grinned. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

*

Oliver walked into the pub and immediately spotted George’s head in a corner booth. The pub was filled with young witches and wizards wearing a variety of party attire, from robes to trousers to party dresses. Oliver had decided to wear jeans and a simple t-shirt, because if George was in charge of drinking and other assorted activities tonight, he wanted to be comfortable. 

As he approached the table, he saw that George had been joined by Lee, Harry, and Ron. After greetings and the first round of beer (which was, of course, on Oliver), Lee and George started arguing.

“You can’t do it,” George protested.

“I guarantee you that I can get any girl in this entire pub to dance with me,” Lee said. 

“Wanna bet?” George grinned. “If you succeed, I’ll dye my hair any color of your choosing. If you lose, you have to run through Diagon Alley after this completely naked.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair trade, George,” Ron said.

“Shut it, Ron. What do you think would be more fair?”

“Just make it even. You win, he runs naked, you lose, you run naked, though I don’t like the thought of watching either of you run naked.” Ron shuddered.

“Fine,” George said, turning to Lee. “Harry gets to pick the girl.”

“Deal,” Lee said.

“Okay,” Harry said. “But you don’t just have to get her to dance with you, you also have to get her to kiss you, and not you kissing her with her resisting.”

“You say that like it’s going to be difficult,” Lee said.

“Okay,” Harry said scanning the crowd. His eyes stopped on a group of women sitting at the end of the bar. “Found her. Penelope Clearwater.”

“Ouch!” Ron said. “Percy tried to get into her knickers for years and never could.”

“I’m not Percy,” Lee said, standing up. “Percy couldn’t get into a hooker’s knickers.” George laughed so hard he accidentally spit beer on Oliver. 

The four men watched as Lee moved through the crowd, then approached the group. There were four of them, one of which was Susan.

“George, it’s Susan,” Oliver said.

“Susan Bones?” Harry asked.

“Oliver’s sweet on her,” George teased. 

“You’re sweet on Susan Bones?” Ron asked. “Going for a Hufflepuff, nice.” He snickered. “I’m sure she’ll be very loyal to your cock.” Ron made lewd motions with his mouth and hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry not all of us found our soulmates when we were eleven,” Oliver retorted. “Or have been having the same boring shag since we hit puberty.”

“Lay off Hermione,” Ron said. “You’re a man-whore.”

Oliver laughed and drained the rest of his beer. “I think we need shots.”

“Good idea,” Harry said.

While they waited for the waitress to bring over their shots, they watched in admiration as Lee talked to the women, then managed to get Penelope on the dance floor.

“I don’t know how he does it,” George said with awe. 

“Maybe Lee’s just got an ear for it,” Ron joked.

George glared at him. “Fuck off, man tits.”

“Maybe you can ask Lee to give you some tips. That way you might be able to score with Verity.” 

The waitress brought their shots, then George counted to three before they downed them. Each shot made smoke come out of their ears and their tongues turn momentarily blue. Oliver felt his limbs start to loosen as the alcohol coursed through his veins.

Later, Lee was still dancing with Penelope (though he hadn’t gotten close to kissing her) and the four still at the table were drunk. Oliver was well into a discussion of the past Quidditch season with Harry, after commiserating that neither Oliver nor Ginny’s team had been able to compete for a spot in the Quidditch World Cup.

George leaned over and said, “Quidditch is asoblutely fasnating,” George slurred, “but I really think Oliver needs to go fuck Susan now.”

“How drunk are you?” Oliver asked, taking in the large collection of empty beer and shot glasses. Although he was drunk, he wasn’t nearly as drunk as George. 

George leaned close and whispered, his thumb and index finger close together, “Just a bit.” Then, he pecked Oliver on the lips. “Now, go get your woman! Get laid for me, please.”

Harry and Ron laughed as they helped push Oliver out of the booth. He stumbled a bit, then tugged at his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. He walked through the crowd and up to Susan and her friends.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Assistant Postmaster,” Oliver said. Susan’s friends looked at him as Susan turned around on her stool.

“Ah, my favorite pick-up artist and stalker.” She smiled. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely friends?” He nodded at the other two beside her. 

Susan said, “This is Oliver Wood, the famous Quidditch player from Puddlemere United, Keeper of the Year.” She smirked and he smiled. “Oliver, this is Hannah Abbott and Mandy Brocklehurst.” 

“Nice to meet you both,” he said, shaking their hands. He turned back to Susan. “Care to dance?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Susan!” Hannah exclaimed. “Do it!”

“Yeah,” Mandy added, “it’s been way too long since you’ve danced with anybody.” Mandy pushed her off the stool. “Go have some fun and stop being a loser.”

Susan turned around and glared at her friends. “Thanks for embarrassing me.” She turned to Oliver, her cheeks slightly pink. “You win.”

“You won’t regret it,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her to the dance floor.

They danced to a few fast paced tracks with a bit of space between them. After those were over, Oliver leaned down, making sure he was close enough for his lips to brush her ear, and asked, “Would you like a drink?”

She nodded, her hair tickling his face. “Sure.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said, and she smiled. “I don’t want to return and find you missing.”

“I promise.”

When Oliver returned with the drinks, he found her standing along the wall, leaning on the counter. He squeezed in between her and a nearby couple, and after she took her drink, he stretched his arm out behind her on the counter. 

“I do believe you seem to be having fun with me,” Oliver said after she’d drained most of her drink. 

“You may be right, Oliver,” she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him back on the dance floor. To Oliver’s surprise, she clasped her hands behind his head. He wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close against him.

She leaned her head against Oliver’s, her face against his cheek. He concentrated on the feel of her body in his arms, the way she smelled, how soft her hair was. He wanted to kiss her, but he also wasn’t sure how she’d react if he did. He didn’t want to scare her off now that she was in his arms.

As they danced, he realized that Susan wasn’t like the other women he’d been with. She wasn’t impressed by his being a Quidditch player, and none of his usual charms worked on her. By this time with most women, he’d already taken them out on multiple dates and shagged them; now, he was scared what she might do if he even attempted to kiss her. Even though it had been Susan who’d wrapped her arms around him first.

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, and what it _was_ about this girl. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her, and now that he was holding her, he knew there was no way he was going to stop. 

He pulled back and looked down at her. Her eyes were round and bright, her lips full and slightly parted. Oliver stared at them, wanting to kiss them more than he’d wanted to do anything else before. Gathering courage (maybe more from the alcohol than not), he slowly leaned down, his lips growing closer and closer, and Susan not moving away – 

“Oliver!” Ron said, interrupting them. Oliver inwardly cursed, and Susan pulled completely out of his arms. He glared at Harry and Ron. 

“What?” he barked. They remained unfazed.

“Lee did it!” They pointed over their shoulder at Lee, who was standing with an extremely sullen George.

“Did you see it with your own eyes?” Oliver asked.

“Of course,” Harry said. 

“What’s going on?” Susan asked.

Oliver shook his head. “Some stupid bet.” He turned back to Ron and Harry. “When is George holding up his end?”

“In a few minutes,” Harry answered.

“I think I’m going to invite the whole pub outside to watch,” Ron said with a smirk.

Oliver rolled his eyes and turned to Susan, who was no longer standing with him. She had returned to the bar. “You two go on ahead,” he instructed, “I’ll be right there.”

He walked over to Susan, who was talking to Hannah, Mandy, and Penelope. “Why’d you run off?” he asked.

“Did you and your friends really make a bet that Lee could seduce Penelope?” she asked angrily.

Oliver stood there, open-mouthed. “Um…”

“That’s disgusting.” Then, before Oliver could respond, all four women started laughing. He cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“I knew,” Penelope said. “That’s why I let Lee kiss me. It was my way of getting back at George for all the shit he gave me and Percy.”

Oliver grinned. “I think I like you, Penelope.”

“Be careful,” Susan said, “he’s going to start bragging about being on a professional Quidditch team to impress you.”

“Jealous?” Oliver said, then started to walk away, but he turned back for a moment. “You ladies want to join me to watch George’s defeat?”

“Definitely,” Penelope said as she, Mandy, and Hannah walked off. Susan hung back, and Oliver fell into step beside her, then in a moment of boldness, grabbed her hand.

Outside, a small group had amassed on the sidewalk. Oliver squeezed through the crowd, Susan right behind him. He found Harry and Ron standing on the edge. “Where’s George?”

“Getting ready, I suppose,” Harry answered.

“I hope he doesn’t get arrested,” Ron said. “Mum’ll never let us hear the end of it.” He looked around and pointed. “Isn’t that Verity?”

Oliver looked down the street, and there was Verity, standing beside a wizard Oliver didn’t recognize. “George is going to love this,” he laughed.

Suddenly, the crowd started cheering, and Oliver looked towards his right, where Lee was jogging ahead, pumping his arms triumphantly. Then, behind him, George was running along, wearing nothing but a pair of trainers. His hands were covering his cock.

“Chicken!” a few people in the crowd started yelling, so George spread his arms wide and did a little twirl to a chorus of shouts, whistles, and catcalls. He covered his crotch again and continued running down the street, his pale white arse bright in the dark night. When he caught sight of Verity, he waved to her blatantly with both hands. Oliver watched as Verity laughed, her cheeks a light shade of pink. Her date did not look amused.

“Such an idiot,” Harry said as he and Ron turned away. The crowd around them around thinned, but Oliver and Susan remained.

“I had fun tonight,” Oliver said.

“I did, too, actually,” she said.

“We should do it again, but properly.”

She studied him. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I am.”

“No lines?”

“Nope. Nothing fancy. Just me.” He smiled. “So, will you?”

She inhaled and thought for a moment. “Okay.”

*

Oliver apparated just down the street from Susan’s flat in London. He smoothed his clothes, fixed his hair, and tested his breath. When he was satisfied, he walked to the door and knocked. She answered, dressed in a pretty floral dress that brought out her eyes and a light jacket. Oliver couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“You look lovely,” he said.

“Always with a line,” she said, but she was blushing. Oliver offered her his arm, which she accepted as they walked down the steps. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise,” he answered. “Do you trust me?”

She looked at him and bit her lip. “Yes?”

“We’ll apparate there together; just hold onto my arm,” he instructed when they stepped into an empty alley. She held onto his arm tighter as he apparated them both away from London. 

They landed with a soft pop in a grassy field. Susan opened her eyes and looked around. They were in the middle of the country, kilometers away from any town. There were no houses on the horizon, just trees and open fields. She looked straight ahead, at a stone wall. 

“Where are we?” she asked, walking forward towards the wall, Oliver trailing behind her. Susan walked to the wall, standing a bit taller than she, and reached out. Her fingers trailed along the uneven stone as Oliver halted beside her.

“Hadrian’s Wall.”

She looked at him sharply. “Really?”

He nodded. “My parents used to bring me here when I was a boy. Legend says that Hadrian’s lover, Antinous, was a powerful wizard and responsible for much of Hadrian’s success.”

With her hand still against the stone, she studied him carefully. “Is this supposed to be a line?”

He actually felt disappointed. “Is that how you think of me?” He walked away, along the wall, then turned to face her. “Not everything I say is a line. I brought you here because I’ve always loved this place.” He dropped his eyes. “Plus, I knew most of my normal moves and lines, so to speak, wouldn’t work on you.” He saw Susan’s shoes as she slowly approached, then grabbed his hand. He lifted his face.

“It’s very sweet.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Where is everyone? Tourists and such?”

“Well,” he said, intertwining their fingers as they walked along the wall, “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here, technically speaking.”

“Please tell me we’re not going to get arrested by the Muggle police.”

He shook his head. “Believe me, it won’t be that exciting.”

She stopped suddenly and dropped his hand. “I wanna climb up.”

“In that dress?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “That’s nothing.” Raising onto her tiptoes, she grabbed two visible stones with her hands, then lifted her leg and placed her foot securely on a jutting stone. “It just may not be very lady-like.”

Oliver grinned as she started ascending the wall, then followed her lead. With a grunt, he pushed himself onto the narrow top of the wall and stood up beside her. From that spot on the hill, they could see almost everything, trees and ponds and distant cottages. The silence around them was palpable.

“This is breathtaking,” Susan said, scanning the horizon. “I can’t believe we’re standing here.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“We’re standing on a two thousand year old wall,” Susan said. “I feel so insignificant.”

He turned and looked at her. “You’re anything but insignificant, Susan.”

She turned towards him, studying him like she was trying to decide something. He waited patiently, watching the contours of her face.

When he thought she was going to say something, she surprised him by kissing him instead.

*

“Lee’s DJing at a club tonight,” Oliver said as they walked down the street in front of her flat. “Would you like to go with me?”

“Sure!” she said. They went to a wizarding club located next to an abandoned warehouse. To protect it from Muggle eyes, only people who knew it existed could see it. As they approached, the earth shifted while the club appeared, complete with flashing lights, a bouncer, and wizards apparating in front of it. The bouncer waved them through since he was a friend of Lee’s, and they stepped into the smoky club. 

The club was nothing more than a large warehouse with two floors leading towards a tall ceiling. The room was dark, with flashing lights of various colors. Two large bars lined each side of the room, and straight ahead was a stage. Oliver grabbed Susan’s hand and led her through the crowd towards the stage. It was empty, but he spotted Lee, George, and Ron to the side. 

“You made it!” Lee said. “I’m glad you came, Susan.” 

“Hey Susan,” Ron said. She smiled and waved.

After chatting for a few minutes, Oliver and Susan made their way to the bar. Susan ordered them both shots and insisted on paying for them.

“Okay,” she said, handing Oliver one of the shots. “Together.” He watched for her cue, and then knocked the shot back. He almost gagged.

“What the fuck was that?” he yelled.

“One of the strongest legal shots you can buy,” Susan said. “It has a tiny amount of poison in it, but you’ll feel drunker faster and from drinking less.”

“Are you trying to kill me, you little minx?” He grinned, stepping closer and slipping his arms around her waist.

“Not trying to kill you,” she said, lifting on her tiptoes so she was closer to his mouth. “But I may have a few sinister ulterior motives in mind.”

“Believe me, you don’t have to ply me with liquor to do anything sinister to me.” He grinned wolfishly as she dragged him to the dance floor.

Lee started DJing, so the beats were loud and sexy as they vibrated through the club and up through the soles of Oliver’s feet. He pulled Susan close to him, so close that he could feel her breasts pressed against his chest. He made no effort to cover his obvious lust, and she looked like she could have taken him home right then. But they continued dancing, pressed obscenely together. Her fingers played with the damp strands of hair at the base of his neck, and his hands brazenly covered her arse. 

She was right; he was drunk off one shot. Fuck, he thought. He leaned close to Susan’s ear and said, “You weren’t joking with how strong that shot was.” Then he flicked his tongue against her ear and took the lobe between his teeth. He heard her intake of breathe and felt the way she started rubbing against him. He moaned against her ear and slid his hand inside the back of her shirt. Her back was hot, her skin smooth. He wanted to feel all of it beneath his fingers and against his tongue.

“Hey,” she said. “Let’s do another shot.”

“I don’t know if I can handle another one of those,” he said, pulling back to look at her. She looked a bit drunk too, and he wondered if she would care if he pulled her into the bathroom and fucked her against the wall. He decided she probably would.

At the bar, she ordered two tequila shots. To his surprise, she placed the salt on her neck and the lime in her mouth, then handed him the shot. For a moment, his brain stopped working. He couldn’t think of anything but licking the salt off her skin. Then, he snapped back to reality. Leaning forward, he slowly and deliberately licked the salt from her skin, making sure to enjoy every moment his tongue touched her, then knocked back the shot quickly so he could grab the lime from her mouth. He turned his face and spit the lime on the floor and attacked her mouth, his tongue sliding urgently against hers, lime and tequila mixing in their mouths.

“Get it, Oliver!” he heard beside him, and he grudgingly turned to see Harry and Ron standing behind him with Ginny and Hermione. He heard Susan laugh against his ear, and he wanted to punch in both their faces.

“Let’s get out of here,” Oliver breathed against Susan’s ear.

“What about Lee’s set?” 

“Fuck Lee.”

They quickly left the club, and as soon as they were outside, they apparated to Susan’s apartment. Oliver looked around and realized they were in her living room, and he was surprised she was able to apparate them there without any difficulty, but that was soon chased from his mind when Susan began kissing him.

He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him, her hands sliding through his hair. Somehow, he found the couch and lowered her onto it, immediately shoving his hands under her shirt and bra. Her breasts were warm and full in his hands, and he lightly flicked her pert nipples. She groaned against his mouth, her hips grinding against his. 

Her hands began working on the fly of his trousers, and he shifted to give her more room. He slid his hands from under her bra, down her sides, relishing the feeling of her skin against his fingertips. Then her hand slid into his pants and wrapped around his cock, and he almost came instantly. He jerked and moaned, and she giggled and kissed him. Her hand was small and tentative, and although he’d had handjobs from countless people – women and men – this felt different. Susan felt different.

Her hand began a steady rhythm, and he used what remaining brain power he had left to unzip her jeans and slide his hand inside her knickers. She was hot and wet, and when he slipped his fingers between her folds, her legs fell open further. In an awkward position, they kissed and rubbed and writhed against one another. He tried to concentrate on her and the feel of her cunt against his fingers and not the growing desire in his own belly and his hard cock pulsing between his legs. But she knew exactly what she was doing with her hands, and suddenly he was coming over her hand and inside his trousers. He collapsed on top of her, his breathing erratic as she kissed his head. After a few moments, he got a bit of his wits about himself and continued fingering her, his fingers sliding around her slick clit. He felt her tensing beneath him, little moans escaping her lips, and as he worried a spot on her neck, she jerked and pressed her hips against him.

Afterwards, he kissed her as she snuggled against him. He fell asleep to the sound of her soft breathing.

*

“Today I have a surprise for you,” Susan said. They were at Oliver’s place north of London.

“What?”

She grabbed her bag and pulled out what appeared to be old Quidditch robes. “Today, we’re playing Quidditch.”

He couldn’t help the joy he felt. He’d been off now for almost two months, and he was definitely missing the game.

“I didn’t know you played Quidditch.”

“Well, I’m not Keeper of the Year,” she teased, and he grabbed her and easily slung her over his shoulder. She started squealing and beating his back. “Put me down, you brute!”

“Nope. I’m kidnapping you. My own little Quidditch captive.” He grabbed her bag of Quidditch supplies and carried her out to the back garden, Susan beating his back the entire time. When he arrived at the open field he used for Quidditch practice, he gently dropped her on the grass.

He pointed to the building next to them. “We can change in there.”

“You have your own Quidditch pitch?” Susan asked, looking around. “I thought we could just play in a field.”

“Famous Quidditch player, remember?” He grinned, and she ran and jumped on his back, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly and kissing his cheek. He walked inside the building, which had a changing room, a shower, and a small kitchen area. 

They changed into their Quidditch robes, both wearing old sets of generic practice robes. He grabbed her an old Nimbus 2000, and he grabbed his Firebolt 500 that had been new at the beginning of this past season.

“It’s not fair that you have a better broom,” Susan said as they walked onto the pitch. 

“The Nimbus 2000 is a damn fine broom,” he pointed out. “Besides, you can blame it on the broom, but we both know that you’re going to get your arse kicked because I’m a superior Quidditch player.”

“Pride cometh before the fall, Oliver Wood.” And with that, she jumped on her broomstick and kicked off. He watched as she handled the broom, flying around above him adeptly. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

He kicked off and joined her above, though momentarily distracted by the air in his face once again. He hadn’t been on a broomstick in two months and he felt the familiar rush as the air hit his face, the wind screamed in his ears, the broom vibrated in his hand. 

“You gonna play or make love to your broomstick?” she shouted. He turned sharply and stopped. She was sitting on her broomstick at the other end of the pitch, her arms crossed. 

“Go get the quaffle, and I’ll let out the bludgers and the snitch.” They descended; Susan grabbed the quaffle as Oliver let the other balls out of their box. He ducked as a bludger tried to take off his head. As soon as he was face to face with Susan, the game began.

They played for hours. At first, he was nice to her, trying not to get too serious about the game (which was honestly difficult for him), but then he realized that Susan wasn’t that bad. She may not be professionally good, but she could play Quidditch. They got a bit physical a few times, trying to knock each other off their brooms, and at one point while Oliver had the quaffle, Susan swooped down towards the ground and grabbed a beater’s bat, then hit a bludger right at Oliver. It hit him in the arm, surprising him so badly he dropped the quaffle and almost fell off his broom. Susan just laughed, stole the quaffle, and scored.

The snitch appeared a few times, but neither of them caught it; they were too busy trying to score and mess the other one up. As the day progressed, clouds began rolling in so that after they had been playing awhile, it started to sprinkle.

“Should we go in?” Oliver asked. Susan used his distraction to score again.

“Wuss!” she cried. “I thought you were a professional!” 

“You’re gonna get it now!” he yelled. But soon it was raining so hard they could barely keep hold of their brooms and they had to call it quits. Back on the ground, they both tried to wrestle the bludgers back into the box. 

“What about the snitch?” she yelled over the pouring rain.

“Fuck it. It’ll come back,” he answered. Then, he grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss. The rain poured around them, soaking them through their robes and clothes. Water ran down his face, in his eyes, and into his mouth every time he moved, but he continued kissing Susan, ignoring the rain. He pulled away and took her hand as he ran towards the shelter of the building. Inside, they both shook the water off themselves. Oliver grabbed Susan a towel and handed it to her.

“That was fun,” she said, wringing the water out of her hair.

“You’re actually pretty good,” he said. “I had to work a bit out there.”

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically. 

“And you were fucking hot in those robes, flying around on that broomstick,” he said, stepping towards her. 

“I bet you say that to all the female Quidditch players,” she teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but this time I mean it.”

He kissed her then, and soon they were pulling off their wet clothes. Their robes dropped to the floor, and then Oliver removed her wet shirt. He kissed the dip between her breasts, then unhooked her bra and tossed it onto the ground. He bent down, his lips covering her breast. Her hands held his head as he tongued her nipple, his other hand gliding along her damp skin.

He straightened back up and looked at her seriously. “Are you sure? You want to do this here?” he asked.

She untied the laces on his trousers. “I can’t think of a better place.” He smiled, and then they began removing the rest of their clothes in a flurry. He gently guided her onto the carpet when they were both undressed. She shivered, goose bumps across her skin, and he leaned down to kiss her stomach softly. 

He slowly and deliberately kissed down her body, seeing her fully for the first time. Then he positioned himself above her, and she opened her legs wider and tugged him closer, and then he slid inside her. She was tight and hot, and his brain went into overdrive. Her nails dug into his back, her hips meeting his every thrust, and she made quiet little moans every time he pushed inside. His mouth couldn’t get enough of her, her lips and tongue not close enough. He wanted to crawl inside her and never leave. It scared him how different this was than sex with anyone else. He loved sex; with anyone, any way. But this was different. And he was pretty sure he never wanted to have sex with anyone else ever again.

*

Later that night, Susan fell asleep in Oliver’s arms. He had tried to sleep also, but he couldn’t get over the fact that she was really there with him, in his bed, and that they’d had sex all night. It wasn’t the first time he’d had sex all night, and it wasn’t even the first time he’d fallen asleep beside someone – but it _was_ the first time someone had fallen asleep in his arms in his own bed.

He didn’t bring women to his house. Usually, he just went back to their place or got a hotel room, and sometimes he even carried them back to the team flat that the league provided for players to live in during most of the Quidditch season. He kept his private life private, and he hadn’t met anyone he wanted to share that with until now.

Susan curled against him, her arm draped across his waist, her cheek against his chest. Her breathing was so and even, her body warm against his. Her dark hair spread behind her and across his arm like a blanket.

He didn’t know what it was about her that attracted him so. She was beautiful, yes, but he’d been with many beautiful women. She was smart, independent, and challenged him – and drove him completely insane. He couldn’t imagine a day without her, and that scared the hell out of him.

Lying there in the darkness, the moonlight filtering through the drapes, he realized that for the first time in his life, he was in love with something other than Quidditch. And she was sleeping peacefully in his arms.

*

They were walking through Diagon Alley when Oliver picked up a copy of _The Daily Prophet_. A headline read, “Reporter remembers the War four years later. Exclusive interviews with survivors.”

“Look at this bullshit,” Oliver said, waving the _Prophet_ around. “It’s been four years. It’s really not a big deal anymore. People need to get over it.”

Susan stopped and pulled her hand from Oliver’s. “What do you mean by that?”

“We can’t keep dwelling on the past. You-Know-Who’s gone. Hogwarts has been rebuilt for a couple of years now. It’s time to move on and forget, you know?”

“No, _you_ don’t know.” She stalked off down the street, and before Oliver could catch her, she had apparated.

“Fuck,” he muttered, apparating to her apartment. She was pacing back and forth in her living room. “What?”

“What?” she yelled. “You’re an insensitive arse, do you know that?”

“What did I do?”

“And you don’t even know. Classic.”

“How am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me?” 

She stopped and turned on him, her eyes slits. She pointed a finger in his face. “You’re a callous, thoughtless bastard.” Suddenly, tears sprang into her eyes. “How could you talk about the war like that? You were there at Hogwarts.”

“I know,” he said, trying to choose his words carefully. “But we can’t keep holding on to all that. We’ve got to move past it.”

“Did you lose anyone in the war?” Susan asked angrily.

“Don’t be stupid. You know Fred died.”

“Anyone else? Family?” Oliver shook his head. Susan had tears flowing freely down her face now. “Do you know how many people my family lost? Too many. My uncle was a member of the Order in the seventies and died then. The Death Eaters who killed him escaped from Azkaban. Do you know what that’s like?” Oliver shook his head. “My grandparents died at the hands of Death Eaters, and my aunt, the one who worked for the Ministry? She was killed by V-Voldemort himself in the first weeks of the war.” She stepped closer, pain all over her face. “So don’t fucking tell me it’s time to forget. You don’t get that privilege until you know what it feels like to have your family torn apart by Death Eaters.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Oliver said, reaching out to touch her. She jerked away, furious. 

“Just leave,” she said. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Susan, please.”

“GET OUT!”

Oliver stared at her, tried to think of something to say, but apparated home.

He couldn’t believe how shallow and thoughtless he’d been. He should’ve known – but how could he? He’d read the list of the dead after the war, but that list had been so large that he had barely processed most of the names. And when he’d read that list, he didn’t even know who Susan Bones was.

Angry at himself, he turned and punched the wall, then he punched it repeatedly, leaving a large hole in it. He looked down at his hand, which was bloody and bruised. Sighing, he pulled his wand from his trousers and muttered a spell to repair the wall, then went to the bathroom to cover his hand with the healing salve they used during the season. His hand would be good as new in a few hours.

He dropped to the bed, worried his stupidity had lost Susan forever. He’d never seen her upset, and she was near hysterical. He had never been close enough to a girl to worry about her past and hurting her feelings. But this was more than that; he’d touched on an old wound. It finally made sense why she hadn’t wanted to work at the Ministry and blew him off that day. _Me and my big mouth_ , he thought.

In the morning, he’d send her an owl, try to fix it. He couldn’t lose her; she meant too much to him. As he was drifting off, he heard a noise and got up to investigate. When he stepped into his living room, he found Susan standing in the middle of it. She looked rough, like she’d been crying since he left.

“Susan, I am so sorry,” he said, rushing over to her and folding her in his arms.

“I just want to go to bed; go to bed and have you hold me.”

Oliver didn’t have to be told twice.

*

“I think I’m in love with her,” Oliver told George as they were restocking shelves. 

George stopped and looked at him seriously. “Really? Have you ever been in love before?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. That’s why I think it’s love. I’ve never felt this way about anyone ever before.” Oliver leaned against the shelf and stared out the windows at the dark evening. “I finally slept with her.”

“You hadn’t had sex with her?” George exclaimed. 

Oliver glanced at him sharply. “I like this girl, George. I wasn’t just going to fuck and run. Besides, she might have cut my balls off if I’d have tried anything before she was ready.”

“I’m happy for you.” George smiled. “She’s really amazing. You’ve done a lot worse.”

Oliver laughed. “Now, if only we could get you hooked up.”

“Well, I haven’t had a chance to tell you…”

“Did you finally ask out Verity?” Oliver exclaimed.

George nodded. “She asked me what the hell took me so long.”

“Sounds like Verity.”

“Look at us. We have women and real relationships, like proper blokes. Who would’ve thought?” George asked.

Oliver stepped close to George and kissed him. He realized he’d miss this, but it was time to move on; they both knew it.

“You’ll always be my best friend,” Oliver said, his fingers playing against George’s scar.

“For such a burly guy, you’re a fucking sentimental sap.”

Oliver shoved George’s head and laughed.

*

“I’ll be back from training in a few weeks,” Oliver told her. She was looking at his luggage sadly. 

“I’m going to miss you,” she said. “I don’t know how I’m going to get used to the Quidditch season.”

“We’ll make it work,” he said. “It’ll be tough, but we’ll get to see each other.”

“Okay,” she said, absently rubbing the cloth of Oliver’s shirt. “But I want you to go and be the best Quidditch player you can be. I expect you to be Keeper of the Year this season, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, leaning down and kissing her. “I love you, Susan.”

“I love you, too, Oliver Wood, Quiddith player for Puddlemere United.” She grinned and he was already looking forward to the end of pre-season training.

-fin


End file.
